Carring may hurt
by B. A. Ware
Summary: Harry was thinking about others, Voldemort wasn't. Nothing new you say?


Don't own anything from below. Everything is from J.K. Rowling's books. It just happened that those that I have, got through a shower and aren't readable any more. But I`am still trying.

________

Lord Voldemort, greatest dark wizard in this century, and, at least in his own mind, soon to be ruler of the world, wast thinking. And he was thinking hard.

Well what can you do, when all those people are ruining your plans for world domination. Was he really asking for too much?? No, that couldn't be it. He simply must think of a better way to take his rightful place at the top of the world. Maybe if...

'No mate. That's completely mental idea.' said voice with a tone of much more than a bit laziness in it.

"Who said that??" Voldemort was looking around his throne room for any sight of the person that dared to say he was wrong. But he found nobody. Must have imagined something...

'Imagination, also called the faculty of imagining, is the ability of forming mental images, sensations and concepts, in a moment when...' started lecturing voice in which you could hear great theoretical knowledge.

"Who are you??!!" asked Dark Lord, getting angry as to hear someone that he wasn't capable of detecting. After all, he was the greatest wizard and capable of EVERYTHING.

'We are voices in your head. You are dumb or simply don't pay attention??' said voice with short temper.

'But till this point, when I was thinking, I could hear only my own voice.' Voldemort said in his own mind, too shocked by the experience and wanting to explain it, that he didn't notice the offence. He would be careful about it, at least for a while.

'So glad you finally joined the conversation. Its nice to talk. Seems like having friends...' said dreamy one.

'Just how many of you I have in my head??'

'Well, I`am here as well' was shy reply.

'I won't speak to you. This isn't normal.','Yes, tell him','Is there something to eat in here??', said angry, dry and stupid.

'Will you all just shut up?? I need a minute of silence in my own head.'

'Sure, this isn't fun enough for me.'

'Let's make schedules so everyone will know when to speak.'

'And why should I do what you two say?? I have my own free will, so stop telling me what to do.'

'I proclaim myself Chief Voice and command everyone to sing...'

'I wouldn't want to spoil it, my singing isn't good enough'

'Stop it you freaks and start acting normally.','I quite agree.','If I don't get what I want, ill beat you all'.

By this time Lord Voldemort was fuming quite profusely. He didn't find any spell on himself, nothing he didn't know in the room, or any potion in his body. There was simply nothing that would trigger it. No point which he could detect that it was coming from. And after couple of minutes casting counters to curses most probable to cause such thing, he didn't know how to stop it. Those voices just kept talking, and talking, and then... changed topic and talked some more. For most of hours they would argue, shout and rant among themselves, and it was quickly driving him insane.

By the time his minions gathered for reporting, he was sitting slouched in his throne, staring at the wall, drooling. Rooted to the spot from the shock at finding their master in such state, they nearly had heart attacks when they heard him start to... giggle. Lord Voldemort was giggling. Then giggles went into laughter. Soon he was rolling on the floor and couldn't catch his breath. Reason of this?? Simple. The voices had stopped.

* * *

Unknown amount of miles away from Dark forces headquarters, in smallest bedroom of a house in which he was staying for the summer, a teenage boy stopped his mind arts exercise. He was stunned to see just how much time he spent doing it, but didn't focus on that though too long. He was more interested in thinking that it was the first time he was able to completely clear his mind, and what a superb feeling it was. Maybe tomorrow he'll start sooner, as to have more time to practice...

* * *

AN: Part on imagination from wikipedia.


End file.
